


pink like the paradise found

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (brief and immediately corrected), Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Asexual Character, Asexual Niall Horan, Bartender Louis Tomlinson, Bottom Harry, F/F, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Girl Direction, Lesbian Bar, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Non-binary character, Psych Major Harry, Smut, accidental misgendering, jade is non-binary, sexual awakening, side liam/grimmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: “So what brings you all the way here on this fine Monday night, Harold?”“It’s just Harry, actually,” Harry replies, biting back a smile. “And we’re celebrating.”“Celebrating? Celebrating what?”It takes Harry longer than it should to answer because Louis’ tongue darts out to wet her pale pink lips, which is just unfair honestly. She stares at Louis’ mouth until she realizes that a smile is tugging at the corners of Louis’ lips.“I’m gay,” she blurts out, clapping a hand over her mouth as Louis’ face brightens. “I mean, um, fuck, no… well, yes, I am gay, like so gay, but that’s not… I meant–”Harry's friends take her out to the local lesbian bar to celebrate after she comes out. They joke about getting her laid, but the way the hot bartender is looking at her makes her think it might actually happen.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 91
Kudos: 365
Collections: Bottom Harry Fic Fest





	pink like the paradise found

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for running this fest, to the person who submitted my prompt because I LOVED writing this, and to the friends who helped me along the way. <3

“You ready?”

Harry scuffs the toe of her brown combat-style boot against the sidewalk, letting the late evening sun warm her shoulders as she tries to think of an answer. She’s not ready, but it seems rude to say so after all the time her roommate Jade spent helping her choose an outfit and tame her long curly hair. Even though she knows that’s not what they meant.

“Does this look okay?” 

She tugs lightly at the waist of her romper, raising her eyebrows along with the inflection of her voice. The attempt at deflection seems to work; Jade zeroes in on the drawstring, batting Harry’s hand away so they can re-tie it for her. 

“There,” they say when they’re done, patting the small bow in satisfaction. “Now you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Harry manages a weak smile. She smooths the silky brown fabric, patterned with small flowers, even though it’s not wrinkled; she just needs something to do with her hands while they wait. “It’s not–”

“It’s not too short,” Jade assures her, their lilting voice just as patient as the first time that Harry had asked an hour ago. And every time since then. “Come on, H, it’s high time you show off those gams.”

The compliment is accompanied by a shimmy of their shoulders and a wide grin, and Harry smiles in spite of her nerves. She knows that Jade is right, her romper is downright modest compared to some of the outfits she sees around campus, but it’s just that she has these stupidly long legs. If Jade wore the same outfit, the hem would definitely fall lower on their petite frame. 

After reaching her full height of 5’10” in the tenth grade, Harry had done everything she could to draw attention away from it. She’s always hated to stand out; she prefers to blend into the crowd, something her height had started to make literally impossible. Harry’s pretty sure she knows now why she never wanted to seem different from her friends, but at the time she told herself she was tired of being asked if she played basketball more times than she was asked for her name. She’d started slouching and curling her shoulders inward, and she’d given up on heels and short skirts or shorts entirely. Those habits are hard to break; she still finds herself halfheartedly trying not to take up space so she won’t be noticed.

As a beat-up, old blue car turns into the parking lot, “Pussy is God” blaring from the rolled-down windows, Harry straightens up. Niall’s not going to let her get away with trying to hide. 

Not tonight.

Once the car pulls to a stop at the sidewalk where they’re waiting, Jade rounds to the other side and climbs in the back. Harry takes a deep breath and opens the door, sliding in beside them and setting the small backpack she uses as a purse by her feet. If she’d expected Niall to shift gears and start the drive to their destination, she’d have been mistaken. Instead, Niall flips the key to turn the car off and both she and their friend Zayn in the front-passenger seat twist around to look at Harry, Niall with a wide grin and Zayn with a sleepy nod. 

“You ready for this, H?” Niall asks, wriggling in her seat with excitement. She rubs her hands together. “Your first lesbian bar!”

“Dude, chill,” Zayn says, shoving lightly at Niall’s shoulder. “You’re gonna freak her out.”

“Fuck off, this is a big deal,” Niall retorts, shoving Zayn right back. “Every baby gay only has one first trip to a gay bar, and luckily for Harry, Columbus still has one last lesbian bar standing.”

As much as Harry hates when people talk about her like she’s not even there, she blushes when Niall turns her attention to the back seat again, wishing the car floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“Okay, as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” Niall says, throwing a dirty look Zayn’s way. “Jade, nice job with the outfit, that’s perfect. H, you look great. Very fuckable, if I may say so.” 

Harry squirms in her seat, pulling at the hem of her romper to see if it will cover any more skin. 

“What do you know about fuckable?” Zayn interjects, furrowing her brow. 

“Just because Niall’s ace doesn’t mean she doesn’t know fuckable when she sees it,” Jade points out, gently pushing Harry’s hand away from the leg of her romper. “And I know, can you believe this romper was hanging at the back of her closet? We didn’t even have to go shopping.”

Niall opens her mouth to speak and Harry’s sure that she’s about to make a coming out of the closet joke. She normally loves a good bad joke like the one she expects Niall to make momentarily (her sense of humor tends to run toward puns and dad jokes), but she’s just too nervous about this whole thing right now.

“Don’t,” she says softly, looking down at her lap and fiddling with the drawstring at her waist. “I’m too nervous.”

“Hey, H,” Zayn says, reaching out to pat Harry’s knee. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just a bar, like The Backstretch,” referring to the lone bar on the main road in their college town that students and townies alike usually refer to as The Bar. “It’s just… for lesbians.”

“Did you give her a sex talk like I asked you to?” Niall asks Zayn, sighing when Zayn shakes her head. “But what if she meets someone? That would have helped with the nerves. Being informed is sexy! Everyone knows that.”

“Sex talk?” Harry gulps. That’s so embarrassing, thank god Zayn hadn’t followed through. It’s not like she’ll have any use for it tonight anyway. She runs her hand through her hair as something occurs to her that she should have thought of much, much earlier. “Wait, did you actually assign everyone, like… roles for tonight?” 

At Niall’s gleeful nod, Harry covers her face with both hands. She’s never going to live this down. Jade pries her hands away from her face, taking hold of one and squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Wait, so what were they?” Harry asks, wrinkling her brow. “Outfit, sex talk…”

“And playlist,” Niall declares, twisting the key to start the car up again. “Girls Like Girls” by Hayley Kiyoko starts blaring from the speakers, and she turns the volume down a few notches before making eye contact with Harry in the rearview mirror. “That was yours truly’s assignment. Nailed it, if I do say so myself.”

“Just drive,” Zayn says, slumping down in her seat and resting a foot on the dash. “You’re drawing this out too much.”

“She’s right, Ni,” Jade chimes in, squeezing Harry’s hand again. “You’re making Harry more nervous.” They turn to Harry. “It really is just a bar, H, but it’ll feel more like home than The Backstretch. No frat bro energy permeating the air, no having to walk through straight couples making out just to get the bathroom. Just wall to wall lesbians. You’ll love it.”

And, well. Wall to wall lesbians does sound pretty great.

“Okay,” she says, squeezing Jade’s hand back and nodding to Niall. “I’m ready.”

*

Harry falters in the parking lot, staring at the bar she’s built up so much in her mind.

She’d managed to relax during the half hour it took to drive into Columbus, in part because of the playlist that Niall made (Tegan and Sara were especially good for soothing her nerves). But also because of her friends: Niall had laid off on the teasing, bickering with Zayn over directions and her driving, while Jade huddled as close to Harry in the back seat as they could with their seat belts on, holding her hand. They’d reassured Harry that this was just a night out with friends to celebrate her coming out a couple of weeks ago; no one, not even Niall, had taken the sex talk idea seriously.

But now that they’re here, Harry has butterflies in her stomach. Even with that particular pressure off – and the knowledge that Niall had chosen a Monday night so there wouldn’t be a crowd to overwhelm her – walking inside is still crossing a threshold into the unknown. Harry rolls her neck and then her shoulders. Of course she’s nervous. It would probably be weird if she wasn’t nervous. 

She is ready, though. 

Niall leads the way, trailed by a laughing Jade, and Zayn hangs back to fall in step with Harry.

“Remember,” she says, in a low enough voice that only Harry can hear her. “Wall to wall lesbians. Just like you.”

She knocks their shoulders together and Harry’s nerves start to feel more like excitement. _Just like her._ When they said wall to wall lesbians, that included _her._ How did she not think of it that way before? Her whole life, she’s wanted to blend in, to be like everyone else, to feel like she’s the same. Now she’s going to a place where that’s actually possible. 

Suddenly she can’t wait to go through the door that Niall is holding open for her and cross the threshold. She grabs Zayn’s hand and skips toward the entrance, dragging her nonchalant friend along behind her. Once the four of them are inside, Jade leads the way to a table as Harry looks around, taking it all in.

It really is just a bar. There’s a pool table in one corner, and a dart board near the entrance. A small stage takes up the end of the room, but it’s empty, not set up for anything since there’s no theme on Monday nights. A couple of TVs hang on the walls, one playing women’s softball and the other a _Modern Family_ rerun that Harry’s seen a million times. There are tongue-in-cheek signs on the walls, too, displaying phrases like “We do not serve women, you must bring your own.” Harry snorts at that, feeling even more at home than Jade predicted. 

As they take seats around a table on the side of the large, open room, Harry tries to be subtle about taking in the other customers. Almost everyone is dressed casually in t-shirts or open flannel shirts, but not so casually that she stands out in her outfit. And a lot of them appear to be a little older, now that she’s paying attention, maybe mid-thirties. Now that she’s (finally) here, she can’t imagine a less intimidating crowd. Her eyes jump around the room, from a couple walking hand in hand over to the dartboard to a woman with a backwards baseball cap and jean shorts picking up a pizza in a to go box from the girl behind the bar.

And speaking of the girl behind the bar… 

Harry’s mouth goes dry at the sight of her. The first thing that she notices is that the sleeves have been cut off of the girl’s black t-shirt, showing off her upper arms. Her perfectly toned, strong-looking upper arms. Like Michelle Obama level upper arms. She might be a couple of inches shorter than Harry, but with those arms, Harry is sure the girl would be able to pick her up and press her against the wall and–

“Harry? What’re you having?”

“Hm?” Harry tears her eyes away from the bartender, turning to her friends, who all laugh. “What?”

“I told you that you would like it here,” Niall laughs, sliding a menu across the table. “Come on, H, first round is on me. What’re you having?”

Harry scrambles to skim the cocktail menu while Jade asks for a gin and tonic and Zayn requests her usual, whiskey neat. Both of those drinks are way too strong for her. Or taste too much like actual alcohol, maybe. Harry prefers something a little sweeter, but she’s not in the mood for a simple glass of wine. Tonight calls for something fun and celebratory. And pink.

“A cosmo?” She looks up at Niall. “Is that too basic?”

“I hate to break it to you, H,” Niall says, leaning in conspiratorially. “But you are kind of a basic bitch.”

Jade and Zayn break into laughter as Harry sits up straight and squawks indignantly. 

“Niall!”

“It’s true,” Niall exclaims, holding her hands up in surrender. “You practically go feral when it’s pumpkin spice latte season, admit it.”

“Embrace it, H,” Jade says, giggling. “Enjoy your cosmo, who gives a fuck?”

“I’ll help you carry drinks, Ni,” Zayn offers, standing and jerking her chin toward the bar. “Come on.”

Harry forgets to check out the bartender as she and Jade argue over what qualifies as basic while Niall and Zayn get their drinks. She’s sitting back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest when they get back, absorbing the information that she apparently wears an “alarming” amount of leggings when Niall takes the seat next to her, setting glasses on the table.

“Here we go,” Niall declares, pushing a martini glass filled with dark pink liquid to her. “Now let’s raise a glass to our dear friend, Harry, who, like many unfortunate souls, started college thinking she was straight, but–”

“To Harry,” Zayn interrupts, lifting her glass.

“And to living your truth,” Jade adds, clinking their glass against Harry’s once she lifts it up. 

“As a wise man once said,” Niall starts, looking each of them in the eye as she clinks glasses with them. “Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place.”

“That’s from _Brooklyn Nine-Nine,”_ Zayn says, narrowing her eyes at Niall.

“Are you saying that Raymond Holt is not a wise man, Zayn?” Niall asks, narrowing her eyes back at Zayn.

Harry takes a sip of her drink as her friends start to bicker, widening her eyes when she realizes how strong it is. Maybe she’s just used to the cheap drinks at the bar in town and the casual parties at the Sexuality and Gender Equality House on campus, where Niall and Zayn live and Jade and Harry have applied to live next year. But she could swear this drink tastes like two or three drinks in one. She glances at the bar, only to find the hot bartender already looking at her. Harry almost faints to the floor when she winks at Harry before turning back to the glass she’s drying with a towel. 

Holy fuck. Did that really just happen? 

Maybe Harry imagined it. She takes another sip of her drink, looking up through her lashes toward the bar, and the girl looks over at her again, smirking this time. Nope, Harry isn’t imagining things. A hot girl really just looked at her, winked at her, and then smirked at her. In real life. Oh, god, what is she supposed to do now?

Pretending to listen as her friends move on to debating the quality of Niall’s Operation Baby Gay Harry’s First Lesbian Bar playlist (“Excuse me, since when is Team Dresch _niche_?”), Harry finishes her drink, surreptitiously checking out the bartender as she stretches to place a bottle on a high shelf, her t-shirt lifting just enough to reveal the smooth-looking, peachy skin of a slightly rounded belly. 

Fuck. 

Harry’s never told anyone this, but she has such a weakness for girls’ bellies. She’s bitten her lip countless times, silently enduring friends and acquaintances complaining about their stomachs, desperate to be toned to flatness, all the while secretly wishing she could worship at the altar of every one of them. There’s just something about the particular softness of a belly; she imagines nuzzling velvety skin before kissing and licking along the curves, maybe gently biting if she’s allowed. But she’s never been with a girl, she’s never been with anyone beyond an unsatisfying attempt at a french kiss the one time she went to a party in high school (she shudders at the memory; it was like being kissed by a fish). So she’s never gotten to live out that particular fantasy. 

But something in the bartender’s sharp blue eyes fastened on her makes Harry think… maybe.

She lifts her glass to her lips to take a sip, but there’s nothing left. Niall cackles, clapping her on the back, drawing her attention away from the smile from the bar.

“Distracted, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Harry says quietly out of the corner of her mouth. She looks to Jade and Zayn for help, but they’re both smirking and shaking their heads. “What do I do? I think she was looking at me.”

“H, you two have been eye fucking for half an hour,” Zayn says, not bothering to keep her voice down. “Just go talk to her.”

Jade reaches over and squeezes Harry’s hand. “Go order another a drink, but sit at the bar and wait.”

“She’s definitely interested,” Niall adds, glancing at the bar. “If you don’t strike up a conversation, she will. Go get ’em, tiger!”

“I look okay?” Harry asks Jade, adjusting the straps of her romper even though they’re not out of place. She picks up her bag and scoots her chair out, her mind apparently made up before she’s even realized it.

“You look great,” they assure her. “You’re gorgeous, Harry. And you should wear stuff like this more often. I would if I had those legs of yours.”

“Thanks,” Harry says softly, hoping that Jade knows she means thanks for everything. Judging by their smile, they do. “Okay, wish me luck. But quietly!”

Her friends stage whisper, “good luck!” as Harry stands and starts across the bar, carrying her backpack instead of wearing it. Equal parts pleased and embarrassed, Harry manages to make it to the other side of the room without tripping over her own two feet. She pulls out a stool in the middle of the long bar and sits, setting her bag on the floor between her feet. Now she just has to wait for the bartender to notice her.

The girl delivers drinks to an older couple at the end of the bar and then lingers to chat with them, giving Harry a chance to observe her from closer range. Her light brown hair is cut short and falls across her forehead, and she keeps smoothing it off of her face every few minutes. Harry wonders if it’s getting longer than usual, or if she always does that. Even from a few feet away, she can see how deep the crinkles at the sides of her eyes are as she smiles and laughs with the couple. Long, dark eyelashes frame her bright blue eyes, and her eyebrows are curved, softening the edge that her sharp cheekbones give to her face. When she finally notices Harry, sitting down the bar without a drink, she licks her thin, pale pink lips and heads toward her. 

“What can I get for you, kitten?”

To her great dismay, Harry sputters wordlessly. _Kitten._ Niall had taken great pride in meticulously planning this night for Harry, but nothing could have prepared her for the eventuality of the hottest girl she’s ever seen in real life calling her “kitten” in that light, kind of scratchy, unbearably sexy voice. The moment stretches into an eternity as she tries to think of something to say, anything to say, but no words are forthcoming, not with those blue eyes focused on her. Finally, the girl leans against the bar and lays her hand over Harry’s, her tan skin cool to the touch.

“You had a cosmo, right? Want another?”

Harry manages a nod and a weak smile, and the girl pats her hand before straightening up and getting to work. She’s quick but precise, grabbing bottles and measuring liquid to pour into a shaker over ice, not a drop spilled or wasted. It’s easy to get lost watching her work, especially once she lifts the shaker over her head, the muscles in her toned arm flexing as she shakes the silver container, mixing Harry’s drink. By the time she slides a glass over the bar to her, Harry thinks she might be in love.

Now she just needs a name, so she knows what to put on their wedding invitations.

“Hargh.”

Well, shit. Harry clears her throat as the bartender quirks a brow at her, her expression more curious than judgmental. 

“Harry,” she manages, reaching out a shaky hand. “I’m Harry.”

A slow grins takes over the girl’s face, her features going from curious to bemused. She flicks her eyes up and down Harry’s upper body (what’s visible over the bar, anyway) and takes her hand.

“Louis.” 

The girl – _Louis_ maintains eye contact with Harry as she shakes her hand for just a few seconds too long to feel casual. When she finally releases Harry’s hand, she smooths the hair off her forehead (again) and leans forward, her elbows on the bar.

“So, Harry,” Louis says, pushing her glass an inch closer to her. “I haven’t seen you here before, have I?”

“N-no,” Harry says with a nervous giggle. She forces herself to meet Louis’ beautiful eyes instead of looking down at her lap. “No, it’s, uh, my first time. Here. My first time here. At the bar. This bar.”

“Welcome,” Louis interrupts smoothly, probably sensing (rightly) that Harry would have gone on rambling indefinitely if she didn’t stop her. She gestures toward the cosmo sitting untouched on the bar. “This one’s on me.”

“Oh,” Harry chokes out as blood rushes to her cheeks. “Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” Louis says, her tone gentle but firm. “Do you have to get back to your friends, or…”

She flicks her eyes up and down Harry again, and it’s a miracle that Harry doesn’t melt under the heat in her gaze. On the rare occasion that Harry notices a guy checking her out (or, more accurately, when one of her friends points it out to her), it always feels invasive somehow, like they feel entitled to mentally undress her, like she exists for their gaze. But when Louis checks her out – and she is checking her out, Harry is sure of it – it feels respectful, like she’s actually seeing Harry, appreciating her as she is and not mentally editing away her flaws, like her slightly too large nostrils or her small chest, to fit her into some mold. Like maybe the real version of her is enough. More than enough.

“...maybe you could stay and keep me company?” Louis finishes, raising her curved brows. “Mondays are so slow.”

“I can stay,” Harry exclaims, louder than she meant to. She reaches for her drink and almost knocks it over, but Louis steadies the glass by the thin stem.

“Careful there, kitten,” she teases. “I made that especially for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles, more to the bar than to Louis. Her hand is shaking slightly, but she manages to lift the glass and take a sip with no accidents this time. This one is just as strong as the first, and Harry can’t help smacking her lips. “It’s really good, like, so much better than what we usually drink, honestly.”

“Oh, yeah? Where do you usually drink?”

“Oh, I’m a junior at Ohio Wesleyan,” Harry explains, waving a hand behind her as if in the direction of her small university. “It’s like half an hour north of here–”

“Oh, yeah! I know it,” Louis says, leaning forward just enough that Harry has to avert her eyes so that she doesn’t stare down the top of her shirt. “OWU. No, you guys say it like ‘oh-woo,’ don’t you? Cute.”

Something about the way Louis says it makes Harry think that “cute” wasn’t actually referring to her college. Suddenly, she’s very glad that she wore the sleeveless romper tonight, or else she would be sweating by now.

“Cute,” Harry repeats, looking up at Louis to see if she catches her double meaning. Going by the glint in her eyes, she does. “Very cute.”

“Very,” Louis murmurs, her eyes locked with Harry’s. “So what brings you all the way here on this fine Monday night, Harold?”

“It’s just Harry, actually,” Harry replies, biting back a smile. “And we’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating? Celebrating what?”

It takes Harry longer than it should to answer because Louis’ tongue darts out to wet her pale pink lips, which is just unfair honestly. She stares at Louis’ mouth until she realizes that a smile is tugging at the corners of Louis’ lips.

“I’m gay,” she blurts out, clapping a hand over her mouth as Louis’ face brightens. “I mean, um, fuck, no… well, yes, I am gay, like so gay, but that’s not… I meant–”

“Did you just come out?” Louis asks kindly, laying her hand on Harry’s again when she nods. “Congratulations, Harold.” 

Harry ducks her head and raises her glass to her lips, needing a moment before she can handle the heady feeling of Louis’ full attention on her, the feel of Louis’ hand on hers. When she’d run through all of the possibilities for this night in her head, most of them were worst-case disasters. She never imagined that she would meet someone who simultaneously puts her at ease and makes her heart race like this.

She never imagined Louis.

There has never been a time when Harry felt like she had even an ounce of game, so she’s not sure where the idea to turn her hand over beneath Louis’ and tangle their fingers together came from, but suddenly that’s what’s happening and Louis doesn’t pull away. Better than that even, Louis starts toying with Harry’s fingers, looking up at her through her lashes.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says at last, her voice husky to her own ears. “Thank you.”

“So,” Louis says, looking over Harry’s shoulder. “I assume that table of three staring at us are your friends?”

Harry covers her face with her free hand, trying and failing to smother an unattractive honk of laughter. When she peeks through her fingers at Louis, she sees a smile twisting her pink lips and gives up, laughing again.

“Yes,” she says at last, not bothering to look behind her. “Oh, god, please ignore them. The one with the short brown hair is Niall – she, like, organized this tonight, even gave everyone assignments, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Assignments?” Louis repeats, raising her eyebrows. “What kind of assignments?”

“Oh, um,” Harry mumbles, jerking a shoulder in an attempt at a casual shrug. “Just normal stuff, like, um, well, help with my outfit–”

“Have I mentioned that I like your outfit,” Louis says rather than asks. “Because I do.”

“Thanks,” Harry laughs, pushing a hand through her unruly curls. “It’s um… yeah. Thank you.”

“Go on,” Louis prompts her. “What else?”

“Um, playlist for the drive…”

“Very important, you’ll have to tell me how they did later.”

“And, um…”

Harry manages to look up and meet Louis’ eyes. Her bright blue eyes. Her kind, bright blue eyes. Okay. So she’s never really gotten a chance to flirt before. But she can do this. She’s totally got this.

“Sex talk,” Harry finishes, running a finger along the stem of her glass. “Since I’ve never…”

“Been here before?” Louis supplies helpfully. Her eyes look just a little bit darker than they did a moment ago, and Harry sits up a little straighter, confidence bolstered.

She’s _totally_ got this. 

“Yeah,” she answers, not bothering to clarify that she never got said sex talk. “Anyway, Niall turned 21 back in September, so she’s been here a bunch of times.”

“Thought she looked familiar,” Louis says, looking back at their table. “Not many people order Guinness here. Should we send over another? She’s really nursing that one.”

“No, she’s driving,” Harry explains, flexing her fingers to see if that will make Louis look back at her. (It does.) “Then the one with the long black hair is Zayn, she and Niall are roommates. They bicker like an old married couple, but I think it’s just because they’ve been friends for so long. They grew up together; they’re both from Dublin.”

“A Guinness drinker from Dublin, Ohio,” Louis remarks, tilting her head. “That’s kind of hilarious. What about the third one? In the blazer, what’s her story?”

“Jade is my roommate,” Harry says, tugging her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger as she considers how to correct Louis. “We got assigned to room together last year, and it was, like, the best thing that could have happened to me, getting paired up with them. They’re my best friend.”

“Oh, that’s how I met my best friend, too,” Louis says, smoothing her hair off her forehead. “Liam. We got matched up by housing freshman year at OSU. She hated me at first, thought I was loud and obnoxious or some bullshit like that, but I wore her down. She just needed some loosening up, you know?” Louis pauses, seeming to wait for Harry to make eye contact before she continues, “Is that how it went with them too? Or did you hit it off with them right away?”

The tension that had gathered in Harry’s shoulders dissolves when Louis uses the right pronoun for Jade and she beams at Louis, relieved that she picked up on Harry’s cue and she didn’t have to correct her outright. Not that Harry wouldn’t have, but it’s nice that Louis paid attention and cared enough. (If only everyone did the same.) 

“No, we got along right away,” Harry says, trying not to preen at the feel of Louis’ skin now warm against hers. She did that. She warmed up her cool skin with her touch. Somehow it feels like the best thing she’s ever done. “So you go to Ohio State?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis says, nodding. “Done with undergrad, now I’m finishing up my first year toward a master’s. Clinical psych.”

“Really?” Harry exclaims, lifting her eyebrows. “I’m a psych major!”

“Oh, yeah?” Louis looks from their tangled fingers to meet Harry’s eyes. “What do you want to do with it?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry says honestly. “Maybe social work? Or I could work in schools? I don’t know; I feel like everyone I know already has their plan all mapped out, but I just… don’t.”

“That’s okay,” Louis says, squeezing her hand. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. I went right from undergrad to grad, and it’s kind of a bitch. If I could go back, I might take time to work and think about it after graduating before committing to anything.”

“Yoo-hoo! Louis!”

Harry and Louis look down to the end of the bar, where the older couple is waving to get Louis’ attention. One of them lifts and shakes her empty glass, and Louis grins, holding up a finger in a silent request for a minute before looking back at Harry.

“I love them,” she says quietly, just for Harry. “Marge and Lois. They’ve been regulars here since the bar opened like twenty years ago, can you imagine?”

“Twenty years?” Harry glances down the bar with wide eyes, taking in the way that Marge and Lois are huddled together, chuckling at something. They both have silvery gray hair, cut short, and Harry spies simple gold bands on their ring fingers. “That’s almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

“I know, it’s crazy,” Louis says, shaking her head. “I don’t usually see them on Mondays. They always come in on Tuesdays when my friend Nick is working; they call it Kiki Tuesdays since they’re all big talkers and always have good conversation. Just got lucky tonight.” 

She pauses, her eyes flicking from Harry’s eyes to her mouth, and a shiver runs down Harry’s spine at the implied double entendre. God, she hopes that was a double entendre.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go see what they need, and then when I get back, I want to hear your life story, okay, Harold? Starting with your tattoos.” 

“Oh, these are nothing,” Harry replies without thinking, looking down at the small black heart on her arm and the cross on her hand. “You should see what’s under my clothes.”

For the first time since Harry noticed her, Louis appears to be speechless. No wink, no smirk, no “kitten.” She stands behind the bar, lips parted slightly but no words coming out. It takes a moment for Harry to realize what she said, and then another moment to realize why it seems to have struck Louis dumb. It’s more intoxicating than the strong drinks to have this affect on Louis, but Harry takes to it more easily than she would have expected, sitting up straight and ruffling a hand through the front of her hair before scrunching it at the bottom and throwing a crooked smile Louis’ way.

“Go on,” she says, waving Louis down the bar. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

Louis nods, and Harry watches her amble down to the end of the bar, sure she’s swaying her hips more than necessary. Biting her lip, Harry lets herself admire Louis’ ass, round and peachy and perfect, encased in tight black denim. She’s not sure what her type is, so far it just seems to be anyone who identifies as a woman, but it’s entirely possible that from this moment on, her type will be short brown hair, sharp blue eyes, curvy but athletic build. Cute, sassy, kind. Raspy voice. 

Definitely a top.

Maybe Harry should slow down. She’s sure that Louis is interested, but she might be miles ahead of whatever Louis’ thinking, especially since she’s already thinking about wearing white lace to their eventual springtime wedding. And it’s her first time at a lesbian bar. Who meets the love of their love their first time out?

“Do you want another, kitten?”

Harry looks up at the teasing tone to find Louis grinning at her from across the bar, clearing her empty glass with lifted eyebrows. And, well. Apparently _she_ does. _She_ meets the love of her life on her first time out. 

“Please.”

An hour later, they’ve gone through each other’s visible tattoos, and their favorite movies and bands. Harry has promised to share the Operation Baby Gay Harry’s First Lesbian Bar playlist with her on Spotify, and they follow each other on Instagram. They know each other’s siblings’ names and the stories of their first crushes. Louis has told Harry all about the bar’s soccer team and the issues with the lineup. Harry has told Louis all about SAGE House’s last fundraiser, selling buttons and stickers to raise money for Stonewall Columbus. It feels like they could talk for hours and never run out of things to say.

Louis is telling her how she likes to come in on Wednesdays, usually one of her nights off, just to drink and hang out since it’s happy hour all night, when Niall walks up and rests her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“I hate to break this up,” she says with a wince, “but Perrie just texted, asking if we could come back. She’s locked out, and she’s been trying everyone, but–”

“Oh, yeah, no, okay,” Harry says, shoulders slumping. She turns to Louis. “I guess we have to go.” Harry hesitates, giving Louis the opportunity to… she’s not sure, ask her out? Offer to drive her home? But Louis doesn’t say anything, so Harry finishes lamely, “I had a great time talking with you. Really great.”

“Me too, kitten,” Louis says softly, reaching across the bar – not for Harry’s hand, as she hoped, but the empty glass from her last drink. “Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

She nods at Niall, and then turns away, walking over to a sink behind the bar and busying herself washing Harry’s glass. Harry looks helplessly at Niall, who shrugs.

“Did you get her number?” she whispers, cringing when Harry shakes her head no. “Instagram?” When Harry nods miserably, Niall tugs her to her feet and gives her a quick hug. “We can work with that,” she whispers into Harry’s ear. “Don’t worry. Now come on, we have to get back to campus, Perrie’s freaking the fuck out.”

Zayn and Jade are waiting by the door, and Harry and Niall join them. She shakes her head at their inquisitive faces, not wanting to tell them about Louis until they’re safely out of earshot, and they turn to walk out the door. Harry looks back over her shoulder, hoping against hope that Louis is watching her leave.

She is. 

That makes Harry feel marginally better as she shuffles outside after her friends, but she can’t help but wonder what just happened. 

* 

“Lou. Louis. Lewis!”

Louis snaps her head up at the nickname she hates, wondering how long her roommate has been trying to get her attention. Judging by the exasperated eye roll that Liam gives her, it’s been quite a while.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis says, locking her phone. “What?”

“Are you ready?” Liam asks, jerking her thumb toward the door. “I’m driving.”

Louis blinks slowly. Is she ready? Ready for…

“Are you ready to go to the bar?” Liam asks slowly. “Or would you rather stay here and mope over that girl’s Instagram some more?”

“Shut up,” Louis says, but it’s a weak retort. She stands, pocketing her phone. “Yeah, I’m ready, let’s go.”

She follows Liam out of their apartment and down the stairs to the parking lot, her mind still half on her phone. Harry’s Instagram account is just so weird, made up of lame puns that somehow make Louis chuckle aloud, artsy black and white landscapes, and a slew of photos of Harry with friends and family – photos that Louis is sure that Harry has no idea how hot she looks in. It’s no wonder Louis has spent the last day and half obsessed with it, she can’t be blamed.

“What I don’t get,” Liam says as they get into the car, “is why you didn’t just ask her out. You’re usually the least useless lebian I know, what the hell happened?”

Louis tips her head back against the seat with a sigh. 

“Just drive, Payno,” she says, shoving lightly at Liam’s shoulder. “Maybe we’ll see Nick at happy hour and you can show off how you’re the most useless lesbian I know.”

As expected, Liam takes the bait, the mention of Nick distracting her to the point of driving through a yellow light, something she always yells at Louis for doing. But Louis is content to listen as Liam analyzes the last text that Nick had sent her for the remainder of the drive, an impressive feat considering that the text had contained only three words (“fuck, you’re hilarious”). Because then she doesn’t have to explain how she let the most beautiful girl she’s ever met slip through her fingers. 

There’s a decent crowd for a Wednesday once they arrive, and after a few minutes’ debate, they decide to sit at the end of the bar. Liam keeps up a running commentary about Nick and whether they should move to the patio in back when she gets there (“when, not if, Lou”) while Louis tries to decide what she’s in the mood to drink. She’s been craving a cosmopolitan ever since the other night, when Harry’s drinks had stained her lips a dark pink and Louis had missed her chance to find out how much the taste clinged to them. But she’s never ordered one before, both Liam and their friend Sam behind the bar would look at her like she had two heads if she tried, and she’s just not in the mood to explain herself. 

She settles for a bottle of Stella and tries to tune into the conversation around her as Sam lingers to talk while she has a lull in serving customers.

“I just don’t think I could pull them off,” Liam says regretfully, chin in her hand. “Where’d you get them?”

“Out of the Closet on High Street,” Sam says, looking down at her overalls and dabbing at a few spilled drops of alcohol on her chest with a towel. “I do all my shopping at thrift stores. You have to dig around, but you can find the best stuff.” 

Louis cocks her head, wondering how she’d look in a pair of overalls. Probably not as good as Sam. With her lean body and short blonde hair, and the way she effortlessly smolders from behind the bar, she reminds Louis of the babe from the last _Terminator_ movie (not Louis’ usual type, but totally worth the price of admission). Although now that she’s looking, she notices that Sam looks a little pale.

“You feeling okay?” she asks, gesturing toward Sam’s face. “You look tired.”

“Normally I’d tell you to fuck off,” Sam laughs, wiping down the bar. “But I was hungover, like, all day, just curled up in a ball contemplating existence. I’m just starting to feel human again.”

Louis and Liam both wince in commiseration, having spent many days just like that on their couch since they moved in together freshman year. 

“Oh, hey, Nick,” Sam says, her gaze focused behind Louis and Liam.

“Hiya.”

Liam stiffens at the familiar buoyant greeting, plastering a practiced friendly but not too friendly smile on her face before turning around.

“Oh, hi,” she says casually, running a hand through her short, wavy hair. 

Not casually enough to convince Louis that she hasn’t been waiting for this moment all day, but from the looks of it, just right to convince Nick, who settles in the chair next to Liam and starts talking to Sam instead.

“I’m dying for an old fashioned,” she says, putting her hands together as if in prayer. “Please, Sam, my dearest, my darling, if we were ever friends–”

“Coming right up,” Sam says, turning to the shelf behind her and grabbing a bottle of bourbon. 

Louis just barely contains her eye roll as Liam and Nick start their awkward flirting ritual for the millionth time as Sam fixes Nick’s drink. She knows Liam is flirting. She knows Nick is flirting. How is it possible that neither of them knows the other is flirting? They’re so painfully obvious. But as Liam starts wriggling in her seat, eagerly explaining how Nick would be a Hufflepuff as Nick pretends to understand Harry Potter houses, Louis decides for the millionth time that they don’t need her help. They’ll get there on their own time. Meanwhile, she can drown her sorrows in another bottle of Stella. 

Sam has just delivered Nick’s old fashioned and Louis is just about to ask for another beer when Liam trails off halfway through her Hufflepuff diatribe, her eyes on the door. 

"Say, Lou?"

"Yes, Li?" Louis asks, ready to defend her Gryffindor sorting if necessary. 

"You know that girl you've been pining over for two days?”

“Oh,” Nick pipes up, her eyes lighting up the way they always do when she has a chance to tease Louis. “The one you texted me about, Li?”

“Okay, fuck off,” Louis says, actually pissed off now that Liam has brought Harry up in front of their friends. “I’m not–”

“No, it’s just,” Liam says, shaking her head as she keeps her eyes on the door, “what does she look like again?"

Louis sighs, her shoulders sagging. Her desire to talk about Harry wins out over her desire not to talk about Harry, and she gives in.

“Well, the first thing I noticed was her legs,” Louis says, eyes on her beer bottle as she starts peeling off the corner of the label. “She’s tall, maybe not as tall as Nick, but like legs for days. She was kind of awkward, like a baby deer or something, when she walked across the bar, like she’s not used to them or something. It was really fucking cute. And she has curly brown hair, probably down to here?” She looks down as she gestures to her arm, a couple of inches below her shoulder. “And she has a sharp jawline, so she could get away with short hair if she wanted, but it’s so pretty long. There’s a spot right below her jaw that I just want to bite.” 

Louis sighs. Okay, maybe she is pining. 

“She’s so, so pretty. Like the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. Her eyes are green, but if you look close enough you can see little flecks of gold in them. And she’s pale, but she blushes pretty easily and then her cheeks get all rosy. Oh, and she has dimples. Dimples! Kill me, right? And she has a few tattoos, there’s this black heart on her arm and a simple cross on her hand and–”

“This Princess Charming,” Nick interrupts. “Totally fuckable, right?”

“Shut up,” Louis says, scowling at her bemused friends as Liam elbows Nick. She buries her face in her hands for a moment, but she’s unable to keep the words from spilling from her mouth as she looks back up. “But yeah. She’s so hot. Like so hot. And you can tell she doesn’t realize it at all. She’s just… perfect. Well, no, not perfect. She’s a real person, a human being. Like perfectly imperfect, you know?”

Louis sighs over her lost love before looking back at Liam and Nick.

“Why?”

"I think she just walked in."

Louis whips her head toward the door. 

And there she is, standing just inside the entrance, running a hand through her hair and biting her lip. The girl of Louis’ dreams, the one she blew her chance with. Harry’s dressed differently today, in loose jeans and a vintage Britney t-shirt, her pigeon-toed feet clad in black Vans. God. Louis has always had such a weakness for girls who can pull off femme looks one day and a baggy tee the next. Totally fuckable, indeed. 

But that was the problem. Louis had come strong at first the other night, flirting up a storm because Harry is hot and Louis is, well, human. But then they’d talked (and talked and talked) and Louis had fallen half in love with that unexpectedly deep voice. Once she started to get to know her, she’d realized that Harry is so much more than just a hot girl asking for a basic drink on a slow night. She’s funny and sweet and weird, and possibly the most interesting person that Louis has ever met. She’d even started to wonder what kind of flower crown Harry would wear to their eventual springtime wedding (because she definitely seems the type). 

It was all going so well until Harry’s friend had come up to the bar. The stark reminder that Harry was probably just looking for her first hookup now that she’s out of the closet had sent Louis into an immediate spiral. It was all she could do to save face with a quick goodbye before she turned away, her cheeks hot with embarrassment at how carried away she’d gotten. 

She’d allowed herself one last look as Harry followed her friends out of the bar, hoping against hope that Harry would look back too. The fact that she did has been Louis’ sole consolation for the past day and a half. 

“Look alive, Lou,” Nick says, making no effort to hide the glee in her voice as she interrupts Louis’ reverie. “She’s coming over here.”

It takes a second for Nick’s words to sink in and Louis blinks slowly before looking back toward the door. The chatter around her fades to a low hum, the words indistinguishable as she watches Harry walk across the bar, her jaw set and her eyebrows knit together in what looks like determination as she takes a circuitous route around the other patrons. It’s as if she doesn’t want to bother anyone by saying “excuse me” and making her way through the crowd, rather than around, and the adorable mix of resolve and hesitancy makes Louis’ heart clench.

A small pit forms in her stomach at the thought of Harry coming to her bar to flirt with other people, of having to watch Harry leave with someone else at the end of the night. But something in Harry’s flashing green eyes keeps Louis from spiraling completely, gives her just enough hope to lift her hand and wave at the girl making a beeline for her.

Harry sidles up next to her and leans against the bar, hunching down a bit just as Louis straightens up. Their eyes meet, and that’s all it takes to put Louis at ease, even though her heart is still racing at having Harry so close to her. Something in the delicate gold flecks amidst the mossy green of her eyes tells Louis that Harry isn’t here to see anyone else. 

“Hi.”

A crooked grin accompanies Harry’s greeting, a sure sign that Harry’s confidence has been bolstered as much Louis.’ Oh god, she’s so cute, Louis can’t even stand it.

“Hi.”

Louis shakes her chin slightly, just enough to flick the hair from her forehead without reaching up with her hand. It’s a move that many girls have fallen for, but Louis has never fallen for any of them as fast as she’s falling for Harry.

“Hi.”

Harry scrunches her nose, and it’s official: Louis is a goner. She doesn’t even care that she can’t think of anything to say except “hi” when this adorable, sexy girl is looking at her like she’s everything. It makes Louis feel powerful, like Harry’s love would be the only thing she’d need to take over the world. She can already tell she’s going to want all of Harry’s attention all the time. 

They’re going to be so insufferable. 

“Hiya.”

Louis and Harry both turn to look at a smirking Nick, who’s dodging Liam’s elbow. 

“Hi,” Liam says, turning to them with a wave. “I’m Liam, this is Nick. And you are?”

“Harry,” Louis says, looking into Harry’s eyes. “This is Harry.”

“Ah, so _this_ is Harry,” Nick says smugly. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Liam and Nick bend their heads together, laughing, and Louis ignores them in favor of leaning in a little, just enough so that Harry knows Louis only wants to talk to her.

“What are you doing here, kitten?” she asks lowly, delighting in the blush that immediately blooms across Harry’s cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again so soon.”

“Oh! You, uh, you mentioned that, um… the, um, happy hour all night on Wednesdays, and, uh, I just thought… well, I don’t have classes on Thursday mornings, so–”

“Me either,” Louis interrupts, not taking her eyes off of Harry as she waves to get Sam’s attention. “What are you drinking?”

“Need another, Lou?” 

Sam slides a fresh bottle of Stella across the bar without waiting for an answer and then looks expectantly at Harry. 

“How about you, sweetheart?”

Harry wrinkles her nose, and it’s not nearly as cute as the scrunch from earlier. It’s a subtle difference, but one that Louis would be happy to write a dissertation on. It’s way too soon to feel this jealous over Harry, but Louis rests a hand on her hip and scowls at Sam anyway.

Harry shifts, melting into Louis’ hand, and it’s all Louis can do to try and play it somewhat cool and keep her face neutral. Judging by the way Sam is looking at her, it doesn’t work very well.

“Um, just a Cherry Coke, please,” Harry says finally, tugging at her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger. She turns to Louis and shrugs. “I’m driving. Niall lent me her car.”

Sam glances at Louis, and she tries to cover up her fondness for this girl by turning slightly and smiling at the ceiling, but the little laugh that Sam gives before turning to get Harry’s drink tells her that she was not successful. Fuck it. It’s going to be impossible to hide how hard and fast she's falling for Harry, why even bother trying?

It only takes a minute before Sam is sliding a tall glass with a straw across the bar to Harry, smirking when she sees Louis notice the maraschino cherries she added. 

“Okay, kids, have fun,” she says, throwing her hand towel over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Louis forgets to flick her off as she walks away to serve other customers, too entranced by the sight of Harry sticking her tongue out as she lifts her glass. Somehow she misses her first couple of attempts at taking the straw into her mouth, and it’s simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing that Louis has ever seen.

How does Harry keep _doing_ that?

Louis would be content to sit and watch Harry sip her pop for hours, but that would be creepy, so she casts about for something to talk about.

“How was your day?”

Probably the most bland thing she could have come up with, but Harry’s face lights up at the question so Louis doesn’t waste time kicking herself. She starts talking – well, more like rambling, her slow speech peppered with pauses and filler words – about a paper she’s working on for her Social Psych class about flashbulb memories, and the conversation flows from there as easily as it did the night before. They realize that both of their moms can recall in exact detail where they were the night that Princess Diana died, and it sounds like the two of them might actually become friends if they ever meet. Although if things go the way that Louis hopes, that’s more of a when than an if. 

Harry excuses herself to go to the restroom and Louis watches her walk away, her dreamy sigh interrupted by Nick wadding up a paper napkin and throwing it at her head. Louis turns to glare at her cackling friends.

“Wow, Louis,” Nick says, signalling to Sam at the other end of the bar. “Hi. Hi. Hi,” she continues, alternating her imitations of Harry’s deep voice and Louis’ higher one. “Impressive.”

“Oh,” Louis says, narrowing her eyes at Nick. “You really want to go there? Huh, Grimshaw? You want to talk flirting styles right now with me?”

“No, thank you,” Nick says, studiously ignoring a beet-red Liam next to her. “Sam! Come on, next round’s on me!”

“That’s better,” Louis mumbles, nodding to herself in satisfaction that Nick has realized what a dangerous game she was playing. “Oh, uh… water for me, thanks.”

All three of her friends freeze and then swivel their heads toward her in unison. 

“What?” Louis says, laughing nervously. “Can you blame me for wanting to be, like, fully present tonight? Have you seen Harry?”

“Have they seen me what?”

It’s almost impressive how quickly her friends scatter, Sam to mix drinks behind the bar and Liam dragging Nick off to the jukebox. After a moment’s hesitation, Louis decides to be honest with Harry. Now that she’s here, sipping her pop through a straw and looking up at Louis through her lashes, Louis is realizing how stupid it was of her not to be upfront the other night. She could be wrong, but it definitely feels like they’re on the same page.

“No, like,” Louis murmurs, leaning in close so that only Harry can hear. “Like have you _seen_ her, have you seen how beautiful she is?”

A gorgeous rosy flush spreads from Harry’s cheeks down her neck as she looks at Louis with wide eyes. 

“I switched to water,” Louis continues, eyeing the spot below Harry’s jaw that she fully intends to bite when she gets a chance, leaving a rosy mark that will stay long past Harry’s current blush. “Because I don’t want to get drunk and forget anything about this night, and I really don’t want to blow my chance with you again.”

“Again?” Harry asks, her voice husky and wonderful as she stares into Louis’ eyes. 

“Again,” Louis answers, nodding as she tugs Harry’s belt loop until Harry’s standing between her open legs. She looks up to meet Harry’s gaze. “I’m sorry about the other night, kitten. At first, I just thought you were really hot, but then I started to really like you, like get matching tattoos and take you home to my family kind of like you. But when your friend came up to the bar, I panicked, thinking about the sex talk thing you mentioned. I kind of assumed you were just here for a first, meaningless hookup with someone now that you’re out of the closet.”

Understanding dawns on Harry’s face and she lightly smacks Louis’ shoulder.

“Lou,” she says, laughing. “Oh my god!” She pauses, a wicked glint in her eye. “You know what they say about when you assume?”

Louis groans. “I think I just made an ass out of myself, but yeah.” 

“You know, I thought you didn’t like me at all,” Harry confesses, looking down and fidgeting with her straw. “I was so nervous coming back here, but I had to see you again. I like you so much, Lou. I’ve spent so much time creeping on your Instagram, you have no idea.”

Louis throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, both with goofy grins on their faces, until Nick calls out to them from across the bar.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’re heading out to the patio, wanna come?”

Louis looks back to Harry. “What do you say, kitten?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Harry says, stepping back so that Louis can stand. “Your friends are nice.”

“I don’t know what’s given you that impression,” Louis says dryly, seeing Nick smirk at them before turning to walk outside. “Feel free to tease them mercilessly about how bad they are at flirting with each other, okay?”

Harry laughs loudly, a weird honking noise that attracts a few curious glances, and Louis preens. She did that, she made her laugh that hard. She puts her hand on the small of Harry’s back and tries not to faint at the feel of her warm skin through the t-shirt as she guides her out back to the patio.

They share a table outside with Liam and Nick, enjoying the balmy late spring evening. The sky is splashed with orange and pink clouds, and the setting sun warms Harry’s pale skin. She’s so, so beautiful, but Louis forgets to be nervous around her as they joke and laugh with her friends. The conversation flows seamlessly between school (and work in Nick’s case) and current Netflix binges to favorite foods and friendly arguments about double spaces between sentences and the Oxford comma. Louis straightens up in her chair as talk shifts to summer plans, eager to know if Harry is staying in town.

“Where are you from, Harry?” Nick asks, her eyes firmly on Harry as Liam not so subtly shifts her chair an inch toward Nick’s. “Are you local?”

“No, I’m from Michigan,” Harry answers, rolling her eyes at everyone’s boos. “Oh my god, please stop, I don’t even care about college football, okay?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Louis says solemnly. “We are sworn enemies from birth, Harry, destined to play out our rivalry on the field every Thanksgiving weekend from now until eternity.”

“What made you decide to come to school down here in enemy territory?” Liam asks. “You didn’t want to stay close to home?”

“Well, it’s not that far,” Harry points out. “I’m from the east side of Detroit, so it’s only like three and half hours. But I just wanted some, like… breathing room, I guess? And I wanted to go to a small school, I didn’t like the idea of getting lost at U of M…”

“Breathing room?” Louis repeats gently, angling her body toward Harry.

“Yeah, I just… well, I’m the baby of my family, and they never let me forget it. It’s like they don’t think I can do anything on my own, and I wanted to prove that I could. To myself, at least. And, like…”

Harry tugs at her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger, her expression almost stormy as she seems to search for the right words.

“I guess I just felt kind of boxed in? At home. Like I didn’t have a lot of room to change or explore or to like… figure things out.”

“That makes sense,” Louis says, looking around the table. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Liam nods. “I think we’ve all been there, to an extent.” 

“Me, I couldn’t escape from my hometown fast enough,” Nick agrees, laughing. “I’m from this small town in northwest Ohio, and I could never, ever hide that I was ‘different,’ you know? I love my folks, they’re not bad people or anything, but a few days there at Christmas is all I can handle.”

“Yeah, I have to go home for a couple of weeks when the semester is over,” Harry says, glancing over at Louis. “But I applied to be a research assistant for one of my professors, so then I’m coming back for the rest of the summer, and I’m going to live on campus.”

“That’s awesome,” Louis says softly, already looking forward to many more evenings just like this, on the back patio of her home away from home with her favorite people, which now includes Harry. “That sounds awesome.”

“Awesome,” Nick declares, standing up. “Excuse me, ladies, I must be off to powder my nose.”

“Oh, me too,” Harry says, pushing her chair back. “Is that okay?” 

“More than okay,” Nick says grandly, gesturing toward the door. “Follow me, young Harold, and I’ll tell you all of Louis’ deep, dark secrets.”

Louis quirks a brow at Liam as they walk toward the door. “Is it safe to leave them alone together?”

“Totally safe,” Liam answers, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “Listen, things are going, like, really well for both of us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says dreamily, images of Harry eating the maraschino cherries from her pop flooding her mind. 

“If you want, I can try to make myself scarce tonight.”

“Wait, seriously?” Louis asks, snapping back to attention. 

“Seriously,” Liam nods. She glances toward the door. “When they get back, I’ll ask Nick to play darts and then you make your move. After we’re gone, ask Harry for a ride back, and then invite her up.”

Louis whistles. “So when it comes to someone else’s love life, you’re not entirely useless, huh?”

Liam gives her a withering stare. “Do you want my help or not, Tommo?”

“Yes, please,” Louis says meekly. She does. She really does. “Thanks, Payno. You’re the best.”

“It’s for my sake, as well,” Liam laughs. “Our walls are pretty thin. And, um… I really like Nick, Lou. No bullshit – do you really think she’s into me?”

It takes every ounce of restraint that Louis has not to roll her eyes, but she knows how Liam feels and if she needs to hear this from Louis – again – she can do that for her. No bullshit.

“I really do, Li,” Louis says, schooling her face into a serious expression. “You should go for it.”

“Okay,” Liam nods, more to herself than to Louis. “Okay.”

The door to the patio opens and Nick and Harry emerge from the bar, giggling with their heads bent together. Louis would quite cheerfully murder Nick if she ruined her chances with Harry, but from the way Harry looks at her, it doesn’t seem like that will be necessary.

“Say, Li,” Nick says as they approach the table, “wanna play darts? You owe me a rematch from last week.”

Liam beams as she scrambles to stand up, following a laughing Nick back into the bar. Louis turns to Harry, who settled in the chair next to her as Nick and Liam made their escape. 

“You were right about them,” Harry says, glancing after Nick and Liam. “Nick was asking me in the ladies room if I thought Liam liked her ‘like that’ and then we came up with the darts rematch plan.”

Louis bursts into laughter at the air quotes, shaking her head.

“At least we’re not that bad,” she says, admiring Harry’s long curls as Harry runs a hand through them. “God, I’m so glad you came here tonight, kitten. You’re braver than I am.”

Harry shrugs and shakes her head, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment, and Louis is torn between doubling down and trying to convince her or changing the subject. After a moment, she comes to a compromise.

“So you decided on OWU,” she starts, noting how Harry’s shoulder tense, “because you felt boxed in? Back home.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, seeming to need a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, I mean my family jokes that I chose it because there was no math or phys ed requirements–”

“Is that like the good kind of teasing? Or the bad?” 

“Both, kind of,” Harry says with a wry smile. “They tease me all the time, and it just feels like… not putting me down exactly, but not taking me seriously?”

Louis nods, thinking about her own relationships with her younger sisters and wondering if she’d ever made them feel that way. 

“I just hate when I’m excited about something, or like trying to be serious about something, and whoever I’m talking to doesn’t, like, meet that energy? And it’s not like that all the time with my family, but like… more of the time than I’d like.”

“So that’s part of it,” Louis guesses, waiting for Harry’s nod before she continues, “but not all of it?”

“I just kind of…” Harry trails off, eyebrows furrowed. “Like, growing up in my town, no one ever said it was a bad thing to be gay. But I just kind of always knew it wasn’t a good thing, you know?”

Louis hums quietly, wanting Harry to know she understands perfectly but not wanting to interrupt her train of thought.

“I would look at girls, whether it was like in magazines or on TV or in person, and I’d always get this weird, like, squirmy uncomfortable feeling. Like I was doing something wrong, but I wasn’t even doing anything. No one needed to say that it wasn’t something I should ever talk about, let alone think about – I just knew that was how they felt. And so I spent all this time, like, pushing down those feelings and then it got to a point where I was just so… disconnected? From my sexuality. And I am a sexual person, I do… feel desire…”

Louis would have thought that just hearing Harry say the word “desire” would be enough to set her on fire, but she just reaches over to squeeze her hand comfortingly. It sounds like Harry hasn’t always had the safe space that she deserves, and Louis wants to be that for her.

“I used to try masturbating,” Harry continues, blushing furiously but looking determined to get all of her thoughts out. “And it would feel good to a point, but I could never, like, really get out of my head? I could never… come, it was like there was some invisible barrier I couldn’t cross. I didn’t realize it at first because I didn’t want to admit there was even something to deal with, but I think I just put off dealing with it because I didn’t have anyone I thought I could talk to about it.”

“And that’s what you were hoping to find in college?” Louis asks as Harry bites down on her straw before sipping her pop through it. “Not just room to breathe, but people who got it?”

“Deep down, yeah,” Harry says, the blush from a moment ago fading. She squeezes Louis’ hand back. “It’s wild the stuff you can do without even realizing.”

“See,” Louis murmurs. “You are brave, you just don’t realize it.”

“Lou,” Harry whines, hiding her face behind her free hand. “Stop.”

“I’m not teasing,” Louis insists, tugging Harry’s hand until she looks at her. “You are. Did you even know anyone at OWU when you decided to go there?”

“No,” Harry admits. “Not a soul.”

“Brave,” Louis declares. “I went to college with about half my senior class. And look at the friends you made! What were their names, there’s Jade and Neil and Z something.”

Harry laughs so hard that her shoulders shake. “Lou! Their names are Jade and Niall and Zayn.”

“Exactly what I said,” Louis says smoothly. “You went out and you found your people, yeah?” 

“Well,” Harry says, the struggle with the urge to downplay her accomplishments clear on her face. “Well, yeah, but it took time. It wasn’t until sophomore year, really.”

“So you persevered even though it didn’t happen for you right away? Brave.”

“And then it took me years to come out,” Harry argues. “Over two, almost three.”

“Any amount of time it takes is valid, Harold,” Louis says gently. “People in the closet are brave, people out only to certain people or in certain parts of their life are brave. You don’t have to lead a Pride parade to qualify as brave.”

“I know, I know,” Harry says, looking down at her lap. “It’s just hard to, like…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a lecture,” Louis says, smoothing her hair off her forehead. “But it’s okay to acknowledge when you’re brave, and to be proud of it. As women, we get so many fucked-up messages all the time about downplaying our accomplishments, and it just makes me a little crazy. Ask Liam or Nick. Well, maybe not tonight, they might be long gone by now.”

“Long gone? What do you mean?”

“Liam was planning on seducing Nick tonight,” Louis says conspiratorially. “She told me to see if I could get a ride home with you.”

“Oh,” Harry says, the blush returning to her cheeks. “Yeah! Yes. I can take you home, Niall lent me her car, I drove tonight–”

“That was good of Neil,” Louis says, sensing that Harry’s ramble might continue indefinitely without interruption. She looks around the patio, realizing they’re the only two out there and that the sky is significantly darker than when they sat down. “What do you think, Harold, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, gulping. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

*

“Love Janelle Monáe,” Louis says approvingly as she props her feet on the dash. “Neil really came through with this playlist.”

Harry’s mouth has gone dry, the result of too much pop or, more likely, Louis’ proximity, and she swallows before asking, “Have you seen the video? With–”

“Valkyrie herself, Tessa Thompson? Yes, Harry, I’m gay,” Louis laughs, resting her cheek against the headrest to face Harry. “Be honest, how many times have you seen it?”

“Um, like a thousand?” Harry guesses, drifting toward the next lane as she glances at Louis. She corrects herself, gripping the steering wheel. “I’m gay, too, you know.”

“You certainly drive like it,” Louis observes, reaching out to walk two fingers up Harry’s arm, like that’s going to help her concentrate on driving. “Turn right at the next stop, then I’m the first driveway. You can park in Liam’s spot.”

“Okay,” Harry mutters, forgetting to signal at the intersection. The car groans as she makes a sharp turn into the driveway, and Harry blushes as Louis giggles.

“How old is this car anyway?” she asks, unclipping her seat belt as Harry turns into the parking spot she pointed out. “It’s a real beater.”

“She’s a hand-me-down from Niall’s older sister,” Harry explains, shutting off the ignition. “Her name is Mel C.”

“Niall’s sister named her car after Sporty Spice? Respect.”

“Yeah, she got it the same year they did a reunion tour,” Harry says, trying to remember what year that was. “So it’s only… ten? Ten years old?”

“Twelve,” Louis says confidently. “My mom let me watch _Spice World_ for the first time that year. It was… a formative experience, shall we say.”

“You too?” Harry asks, beaming. “Gemma let me watch it with her friends once, and like… yeah.”

“Let me guess,” Louis says, tapping her chin. “You’re a Posh girl?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, thinking back fondly to Victoria strutting around in her little Gucci dresses that showed off her legs. “I didn’t know if I wanted to be her, or be with her. Or both.”

“Probably both, right?” Louis laughs, her blue eyes sparkling. “I think I had crushes on all of them, actually.”

They fall silent, eyes locked as they grin goofily at each other. Louis shuffles toward her, reaching for her hand.

“Do you wanna come up?” she asks, lifting her curved eyebrows. “We could–” 

“Zig-a-zig-ah?” Harry waggles her eyebrows.

“Harold,” Louis exclaims, clutching her chest. “I am a lady.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I had to,” Harry says, ruffling her hair. “I, um… I would. Like to come up. I’d really like to come up. If you want.”

“I definitely want,” Louis says firmly. “We don’t have to, you know–”

“I want to,” Harry blurts out, her heart thudding in her chest. “I do, I really do. If–”

“Oh, I do,” Louis says, licking her thin lips like she’s going to devour Harry. God, Harry wants her to devour her. “Come on.”

Harry watches her climb out the passenger side, ogling her ass as much as she can, before she turns to her door. She has to fight with the seatbelt she forgot to unclip, but she makes it out of the car unscathed. Louis rests her hand on Harry’s lower back, guiding her up the steps to her and Liam’s apartment. She hums something as she fumbles for her keys and unlocks the door, and it’s not until she leads Harry into the apartment and flicks on the lights that Harry realizes it’s the song that was playing in the car. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Louis asks, eyes on Harry as she takes a few steps backwards toward the kitchenette. “Water, pop…”

“N-no, I’m good,” Harry stammers, her eyes flicking to the hallway that leads to two bedroom doors. Oh, god, she wants Louis so much, this is all she’s been able to think about since she first laid eyes on her, but she’s not sure if she’s ready yet for a bedroom. And the bed that would come with it.

“Take a seat, Harold,” Louis calls from behind the breakfast bar. “That couch may not look like much, but it’s really comfy, I swear.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes her lips as she glances toward the couch. A couch. Okay, she can handle a couch. She crosses the living room and sits down on the middle cushion so that Louis will have to sit right next to her. It only takes a few minutes for Louis to join her, but it feels like forever, an agonizing eternity spent trying to distract herself from her nerves by reading the titles on the DVDs lined up neatly on the shelf next to the TV.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis says as she plops down next to Harry and sets a glass of water on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone that long, I just had to go to the bathroom.”

“No, no! That’s fine, it was totally fine, I was just looking at your DVDs. You have so many! I don’t have that many at school with me since Netflix makes it so easy and–”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, brushing a stray curl off of Harry’s face. “I’d really love to kiss you right now.”

The combination of Louis’ fingertips against her skin and Louis’ words causes Harry’s brain to short circuit for a moment. Her legs probably would have given out if she were standing. After taking a deep breath, she angles her body toward Louis’ on the couch and nods. 

“I’d really love that, too,” she says, relieved that she sounds sure, confident. Because even though she’s nervous and her heart is racing, she’s ready. So ready. “Please kiss me, Lou.”

Louis smiles, her blue eyes twinkling, and she lifts a hand to stroke Harry’s cheek before moving it to the back of Harry’s neck and gently guiding her to lean in. Harry’s eyes drift closed, an overwhelming feeling of safety surrounding her as Louis’ soft lips brush against hers. Harry chases after the feeling, blindly reaching out to clutch Louis as she kisses her again and again, lingering against her lips longer and longer with each kiss until Harry finally parts them, welcoming Louis to stay.

Louis pulls her impossibly closer, tilting her head just so as she slips her tongue into her eager mouth. Like with the first few kisses, she seems determined to build the intensity slowly, to let Harry get comfortable, but it’s driving Harry crazy, all she wants is _more._ Any shyness or insecurity about her inexperience starts to fall away as desire takes over, and Harry thrusts her tongue into Louis’ mouth, moaning when Louis matches her fervor. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she registers that Louis seems to like that, hearing her, as she threads her fingers in Harry’s curls and holds her close.

It almost physically pains her to do so, but Harry has to draw back eventually, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Louis doesn’t miss a beat, immediately attaching her lips to Harry’s neck. Harry cries out when Louis nips at the skin below her jaw, the spike of pleasure travelling down her body to between her legs, where Harry is already wet and throbbing. There’s going to be a bruise on her neck, especially now that Louis is sucking over the spot, and Harry is surprised to find that she couldn’t give a fuck; she hopes there _is_ a bruise, a sign she can wear proudly that this really happened. 

She’s not sure what comes over her as she pushes Louis back and climbs into her lap, grabbing her face with both hands as she kisses her hotly. The feel of Louis’ hands on her hips is driving her wild, Louis is clutching her so tightly as she lets Harry have her way with her that it makes Harry think that Louis wants her as much as she wants Louis. That should be impossible, no one has ever in the history of the world wanted anyone as much as Harry wants Louis right now, but it feels true. She tangles her fingers in Louis’ silky hair, trying to draw her even closer, wanting to consume all of her. 

Harry doesn’t even realize that she started rocking down in Louis’ lap, practically writhing against her, until Louis draws back with a low chuckle. Her blue eyes are blown black as she looks up at Harry.

“Do you maybe want to move this to the bedroom?” she asks before leaning up and kissing Harry once, twice more. She nips at her lip, and then sits back. “We don’t have to, but you seem pretty into this, and–”

“I want to,” Harry says, bending her head to give Louis a messy, open-mouthed kiss. She presses their foreheads together. “But I… I do want to, I want everything with you, I just don’t really know how.”

“Sure you do, kitten,” Louis murmurs, running her hands soothingly up and down Harry’s sides. “Look at you, already going by feel and crawling into my lap and taking what you want. Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy, you have no idea.”

“Lou,” Harry whines, hiding her face against Louis’ neck as Louis laughs.

“You are,” Louis insists, rubbing her hand up and down Harry’s back before stopping suddenly. “Kitten, are you… are you not wearing a bra?”

“No, ’m not,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ skin. A sudden urge to lick, to taste, overwhelms her and she drags her tongue along the curve of Louis’ skin, stopping with a nip to her earlobe. “Don’t really need one.”

“Bedroom, kitten,” Louis says, her voice strained as she taps Harry’s hips. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” Harry says, sitting up straight and smoothing Louis’ hair off her forehead. 

“Listen,” Louis says, biting her lip. “Before we go in there… I don’t want to, like, go into lecture mode again, but I know it’s your first time, so–”

“Is that okay?” Harry asks, a tiny sliver of doubt creeping in. “That it’s my first time?”

“God, yeah, more than okay,” Louis reassures her. “Trust me, it’s like an honor. No, I just wanted to say that I don’t want you to worry about, like, experience or put any pressure on yourself or anything. Like earlier, when you were talking about trying to get yourself off…”

Harry ducks her head, her cheeks suddenly warm. She’d almost forgotten that she said that.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Louis says, lifting Harry’s chin with her finger. “I just wanted to say that, like, yes, orgasms are amazing, and I would love nothing more than to make you come all night.”

Harry bites her lip so she won’t moan at Louis’ words, trying to concentrate on what she says next.

“But sometimes we put too much pressure on ourselves and we get into our heads and stuff, and I just want you to enjoy yourself, you know? It’s just you and me, and I love the noises you make when you like something, so just let go, okay? It can be more about the journey than the destination. And then if we do get there, it can just be like an amazing bonus, yeah?”

And it’s not like Harry hadn’t felt safe with Louis before, but she just… she never expected this. She never thought this existed, let alone that she would find it on her first trip to a lesbian bar.

She nods, toying with the hem of Louis’ shirt as she tries to compose her thoughts.

“Harry?”

“I, um… I didn’t tell you this the other night, but my friend never did give me that sex talk,” Harry confesses. “And I was relieved, it just seemed awkward, and I was sure I wouldn’t need it, you know? I didn’t think I’d actually meet someone. And I never expected you.”

“I never expected you either,” Louis says softly. “You took me by surprise.”

“And um… I guess I’m still relieved in a way, because that, what you just said… I feel like that’s better than any sex talk she could have ever given me, you know?”

“I really fucking like you, Harry,” Louis says, pulling Harry toward her on her lap. “God, I like you so much.”

“Get matching tattoos and meet the family kind of like me?” Harry teases, delighting in the grin that spreads across Louis’ face.

“You know, kitten,” she says huskily, slipping her hands under Harry’s t-shirt to rest on her bare skin. “I seem to remember you mentioning you had more tattoos… under your clothes. And that I should see them.”

“Bedroom,” Harry says, leaning in for a kiss before climbing off Louis’ lap. She manages to stand upright without stumbling (a miracle, frankly) and reaches her hand to Louis. “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis replies, letting Harry help her up. She keeps hold of Harry’s hand, leading her down the hallway to the second door, and into her bedroom. “Sorry it’s a mess, I wasn’t really planning on–”

“I don’t care,” Harry interrupts, turning to face her. “I really don’t.”

Louis pulls her close, capturing her lips. She kisses her slowly, but thoroughly, seemingly intent on working Harry up gradually after they’d both cooled off a bit during their talk. Her hands travel down Harry’s body, coming to a rest so low on her back that Harry gets impatient and puts her hands over Louis,’ pushing them down to her ass. Harry swallows Louis’ moans as she cups Harry’s small cheeks, squeezing the flesh as well as she can through her jeans. Harry’s not sure how long they stay like that, swaying together by the doorway, before Louis rucks up Harry’s shirt, inching her hand up Harry’s torso. 

“Wait, wait,” Harry says, panting as she pushes lightly at Louis’ shoulders.

“Are you okay? Should I not touch you there? I’m–”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry says, shaking her head. “I’ll just pass out if we do that while we’re still standing. I’m already so wet.”

“Fuck,” Louis mutters, her eyes dropping to Harry’s mouth. “You can’t just say things like that, kitten.”

Drunk with power at seeing her effect on Louis, Harry smiles coyly and tugs at the hem of Louis’ button-down. She looks up through her lashes, asking, “Off?”

“Yes, yeah, I’ll never wear a shirt again if that’s what you want, jesus christ…”

Louis scrambles to unbutton her shirt, and Harry wishes she could offer to help but she knows she would just slow down the process. Slowly, the fabric parts to reveal Louis’ tanned golden skin, and Harry might just pass out anyway. Fuck, Louis is gorgeous. Harry can’t take her eyes off of her stomach, her perfectly rounded little belly, until Louis’ fingers drop to the button of her jeans. Harry snaps her head up to see Louis grinning at her.

“Off?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

“Off,” Harry nods emphatically.

Harry watches as Louis undoes the button and drags the zipper down painstakingly slowly. It’s hard not to lick her lips as Louis pulls the jeans down her legs, revealing more and more golden flesh. Finally, she kicks the fabric away altogether, standing before Harry clad in just a plain, nude-colored bra and black underwear.

Harry reaches out, but stops just shy of Louis’ skin, and looks up at her. “Can I touch?” she asks lowly, relief flooding through her at Louis’ nod. She runs her fingers over the swell of Louis’ belly, the softly rounded flesh as velvety smooth as she imagined. “Fuck,” she murmurs. “I love your belly. I want to bite it.”

Suddenly Louis pulls her into a crushing kiss and Harry whines, desperate again, aching to be touched. She grabs at Louis wherever she can, trying not to be too rough as she squeezes Louis’ ass after having spent so many hours dreaming about it. Louis breaks the kiss first, but stays in Harry’s space, muttering “fuck” against her lips. The whole world has shrunk down to the two of them, in this room, with the only sound of their heaving breathing. Harry wonders wildly if Louis can hear her heart beating, it’s as loud as a drum to her, as Louis starts walking backward to the bed, slowly, pulling Harry along with her.

“Tattoos?” she asks hopefully when she bumps into the bed, sitting down and looking up at Harry.

Harry doesn’t bother answering, she just gets to work kicking off her shoes and taking her jeans off as fast as she can without falling. She stands between Louis’ open legs, takes a breath, and in one smooth motion lifts her t-shirt over her head and drops it on the floor. The cool air hitting her skin causes her nipples to draw tighter, and a shiver runs up her spine as she waits for Louis to say something, standing there just in her underwear. 

“Oh my god, kitten,” Louis says, her tone hushed, reverent. She lifts her hands. “Can I touch?”

Harry nods, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides as Louis scoots toward the edge of the bed and runs her hands over the laurel tattoos on Harry’s hips. 

“Fuck me, oh my god,” Louis says, more to herself than to Harry. “You have _no idea_ how hot you are. Oh my god. I want to lick them. Can I lick them?” 

Even though Louis is right, Harry doesn’t think of herself as hot and she’s always had a hard time accepting compliments, in that moment, she really, truly feels sexy for maybe the first time ever. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, not after everything tonight, but it does. She’s always liked the laurel tattoos, even thought maybe they were a little sexy, and the way Louis is looking at her, like she sees them the way that Harry does… it’s a lot. 

“Please,” she whispers, shuffling forward an inch. “Please.”

Louis doesn’t hesitate, resting her hands on Harry’s hips as she leans in and traces the lines of one of the tattoos with her tongue, the touch so light that Harry gets goosebumps, swaying slightly in Louis’ grasp. When she reaches out to steady herself, holding onto Louis’ shoulders, Louis starts stroking her hands up and down Harry’s body. The touch of her tongue stays feather light against Harry’s hips as she moves from one tattoo to the other, but her hands are firmer, roaming from Harry’s thighs up to her ass, sliding her hands inside Harry’s plain gray underwear to cup her cheeks again, this time without a barrier.

Harry grips Louis’ shoulders, a low moan escaping her parted lips as Louis kneads her flesh, setting her on fire. The warmth of Louis’ skin against hers spreads throughout her body, making her weak in the knees.

“Lou,” she pants. “Can we… can I lay down?”

“Of course, kitten,” Louis says, shuffling back to the middle of the bed. She pulls the comforter down, and pats the sheets. “C’mere.”

Harry climbs into bed, frowning when Louis giggles at her. “What?”

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Louis laughs. “You just crawled onto the bed like a lion or something. It was equally sexy and cute and just… you make me happy, I don’t know.” 

“Well, that’s okay,” Harry mutters, clambering into Louis’ lap. “Kiss me again.”

“So demanding,” Louis murmurs, shaking her head. She wraps her arms around Harry and presses her lips against the wrinkle between her eyebrows until it melts away. “That’s better.”

Impatient, Harry lightly pushes Louis to lay back and leans down to kiss her, properly this time. She cages Louis in, supporting her weight by placing her hands on either side of Louis on the bed, as she sucks on her tongue. Louis lets out a steady stream of quiet moans, so Harry tries to stop thinking about whether or not she’s good at french kissing, because it seems like Louis is enjoying whatever she’s doing, thank god. Harry’s enjoying it too, she can’t get enough of it; this is worlds away from that awful first kiss years ago, that was just cold and wet and gross. It shouldn’t even be called a kiss, not when it’s compared to _this_. 

All it takes for Harry’s racing thoughts to fade away is the feel of Louis’ hands running over her body; she loses herself to the sensations, pushing back into the touch whenever Louis reaches her ass. She half wishes Louis would smack it, but the way she squeezes her is enough for now. Then Louis starts skimming her hands up Harry’s torso, up and down, up and down, each time coming just a little bit closer to Harry’s bare breasts. Harry wants to stay in the moment, enjoy every part of this, but now all she can think of is Louis’ hands cupping her breasts, caressing them, playing with her nipples. Fuck, she can’t wait, it’s too much.

She draws back from Louis just enough to murmur “please touch me” against her lips, and Louis immediately complies, taking Harry’s breasts into her hands. It’s hard to concentrate on kissing when Louis massages her skin, and by the time she runs her fingertips over Harry’s nipples, Harry’s basically just licking at Louis’ mouth, moaning with abandon. Spurred on, Louis toys with the hardened nubs, rubbing her thumbs over them and rolling them in between her fingertips before lightly pinching. Harry turns her face, wailing into the pillow, and it’s getting harder and harder to hold herself up.

“D’you wanna lie back, kitten?” Louis asks, slowing down to stroke Harry’s skin lightly. “Wanna get my mouth on you.”

“Fuck, oh my god,” Harry whines, tumbling off of Louis’ body and letting her arrange her limbs for her as she lies bonelessly against the sheets. Louis eyes her hungrily, and it somehow just occurs to Harry now that she’s basically naked, with a girl she’s so attracted to that she can barely stand it, and that girl wants her. Like really _wants_ her. She thought this would be more awkward, that she’d be fumbling and self-conscious, but she likes the way that Louis is looking at her, she likes the way Louis responds to her touch. She likes the way she feels. And she wants more. Now. She flaps her hands at Louis, beckoning her. “More. Now.”

“So.” Louis smacks a kiss to her lips. “Demanding.” She nips Harry’s lip, causing her to gasp. “Don’t ever stop, kitten,” she haltingly, continuing to pepper kisses all over Harry’s face. “I fucking love it.”

Emboldened, Harry lifts an eyebrow at Louis when she draws back and decides to give _demanding_ a conscious try this time. “Get your mouth on me.” 

“God,” Louis sighs, “that gets me so wet, you have no idea.”

She throws a leg over Harry’s body and shuffles down, hovering her face over Harry’s chest. It’s all Harry can do not to writhe in anticipation, she wants Louis’ lips and tongue all over her. Louis pauses, looking up as she says, “Your tits are so cute,” before lowering her mouth. The sensations of Louis’ lips on her, her tongue lapping at her nipple before she sucks, then gently bites, rip through Harry’s body, igniting her. She arches her back to get closer, to get more, and Louis rewards her by playing with her other nipple with her fingers. Harry’s moans fill the room as she completely gives herself over to the pleasure of Louis alternating her mouth and fingers, driving Harry to a frenzy.

Harry’s never been this wet before, she’s sure there’s a wet spot in her underwear, and the desire for Louis to touch her there, to bring her to the brink in a way she’s never been able to herself, burns in her core. But Louis doesn’t reach for her there; instead her touch roams all over Harry’s body, everywhere but the one place she wants her most. Panting, Harry clutches the sheets in her hands and tries to calm down, a task made harder by Louis’ lips on her neck. She repeats Louis’ words to herself, reminding herself to enjoy the journey instead of focusing on the destination, and her breathing starts to even out. Her mind clears just enough to thread her fingers through Louis’ hair as she starts to suck a bruise into Harry’s hip, right where one of her tattoos is. Fuck, that’s hot. That’s so hot. Harry wants to be covered in Louis’ marks, wants Louis to claim her as her own. 

Harry throws her head and moans, bucking her hips. “Fuck, can you… love it, so much, Lou,” she slurs. “More, want more. Please?”

Louis makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl as she trails kisses over Harry’s stomach to start sucking at the skin underneath the other tattoo and, even as she arches into the touch, closing her eyes, it occurs to Harry that Louis is the one who got to kiss her belly and not the other way around. She almost protests the injustice, but Louis’ mouth feels too good; she can make up for it later. God, there are so many things she wants to do with Louis. She’ll have to make a list.

And then Louis picks that moment, just when Harry has managed to distract herself from how wet she is and how much she wants to come, to toy with the lace trim of Harry’s underwear. All coherent thought flies out of Harry’s head, replaced by sudden and immediate need.

“Can I take these off, kitten?” Louis asks innocently, like she doesn’t know full well that’s just what Harry’s been desperate for. She nods fervently, and Louis sits back on her haunches, chuckling as she slowly pulls the underwear down Harry’s legs. “Fuck, I love your legs, have I told you that yet? No? Outrageous, they’re fucking gorgeous, like the rest of you.”

Logically, Harry knows that Louis is paying her compliments, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the feel of the cotton fabric being dragged down her skin and the knowledge of where this is going next. She lets her legs fall open, baring herself completely to Louis’ hungry gaze, no hesitation or insecurities to mar the moment. Louis sits back, drinking her fill of Harry’s naked body, and suddenly Harry needs to see Louis, too. See all of her.

“Off?” she asks, too turned on for complete sentences, pointing toward Louis’ bra.

“Oh, shit,” Louis says when she glances down. She whips the plain bra off and throws it over the side of the bed before wriggling out of her underwear. “Sorry, kitten, I forgot.”

“You,” Harry breathes, her eyes wide as she takes in Louis’ breasts, somehow just as golden as the rest of her, larger than Harry daydreamed, and capped by dark pink nipples. “You’re gorgeous.”

She reaches out and Louis scrambles to hover over her, capturing her lips as Harry cups her breasts, stroking her skin and trying to replicate the touches that had felt so good on her own nipples. Harry forgets to think about coming, the desperation for Louis to explore her wet folds and massage the tiny nub that’s never responded to Harry’s touch the way she wanted fading into the background as she explores every inch of Louis’ chest with her hands. Louis is everything; she’s all curves, and soft and warm, and loud, loud, loud, crying out when Harry makes her feel good. This is the best thing that Harry has ever done, she preens as Louis moans and wails with abandon, thrills as she cries out at Harry’s touch.

“Need you,” Louis murmurs against her ear, moving to lie on her side next to Harry on the mattress. She props herself up on an elbow, and kisses Harry, caressing her cheek with her hand. “Let me know if there’s anything you don’t want, okay?”

Harry nods automatically, somehow not realizing what’s about to happen until Louis starts to trail her fingers down Harry’s body. She can’t control the shiver that runs through her at the delicate touch tracing the line of her neck, the curve of her breast, the trembling skin of her torso and a bruised laurel tattoo. Harry cranes her neck to watch as Louis’ fingers sink into the neatly trimmed but coarse hair just above where she wants them to be, losing sight of the 2 and 8 tattoos as Louis’ hand disappears between her legs. Louis kisses her again, moving down to her neck when Harry can’t manage to reciprocate, overwhelmed by sensation and possibility. 

Louis starts slow, tracing Harry’s slick folds lightly and setting all of Harry’s nerve endings alight. The trail of fire that she leaves in the wake of her fingers makes it hard for Harry to lie still; her legs twitch and move of their accord and Harry can’t help bucking her hips weakly in search of more. Louis seems undeterred, her lips steady on Harry’s neck as her fingers roll with the motions of Harry’s body, gradually intensifying the pressure until Harry thinks she might scream. She actually has to bite her lip to stop herself from it when Louis moves down to suck one of Harry’s nipples into her mouth just as she presses down on Harry’s clitoris in firm, circular movements. It’s like a dam breaks and all of the pleasure that Harry has ever denied herself, on purpose or accidentally, crashes over her in wave after endless wave. She lets out a stream of whimpers as her body draws taut, her mouth slack as she instinctively puts a hand over Louis’ to keep her in place as she rides out her first orgasm. 

It’s not until her body relaxes and she melts into the sheets, releasing her grip on Louis’ hand, that she realizes Louis is sucking another bruise into her skin, this one on her collarbone. She giggles, causing Louis to look up with raised brows.

“What?”

Harry shrugs. “You just make me happy.”

Louis beams, bending her head to kiss the tip of Harry’s nose. “You’re beautiful like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy. All rosy pink,” Louis answers, gesturing toward Harry’s flushed skin. “Fucked out.”

“Lou!” Harry collapses into giggles, burying her face in Louis’ neck as she laughs too and wraps her arms around Harry. They lie there together like for a moment, Harry inhaling Louis’ scent. Louis throws her leg over Harry’s body, and the wet heat against her thigh reminds Harry that Louis didn’t get to come. She lifts her head to meet Louis’ inquisitive gaze. “Should I… you didn’t… I’m not sure how–”

“Hey, hey, kitten, no,” Louis says, running a hand through Harry’s curls. “It’s not like that, it’s not tit for tat.”

Harry’s eyes automatically drop to Louis’ frankly glorious tits, causing her to laugh.

“One track mind, I see,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “What do you want, then? Tit or tat?”

“Tat,” Harry says decisively. She can be patient, she can wait to spend hours worshipping Louis’ tits. “You made me feel so good, I want to make you feel good.”

“I–”

“No, I know,” Harry interrupts, knowing what Louis is about to say. “I know you felt good, too, but I want to make you _come.”_

Louis’ eyes flash and she clambers into Harry’s lap, leaning down to kiss her messily, all tongue and teeth. Harry lies back, taking everything Louis wants to give her, never wanting this to end; she wants to fuck Louis forever, she wants to feels like this _forever._ She chases Louis’ lips when Louis sits back, falling back to the bed with a huff when Louis smirks at her. 

“Remember, kitten,” Louis says, arranging them so that Harry’s legs are open and Louis is sitting on one of her thighs. “Tell me if you don’t like this, okay?”

Harry furrows her brow, wondering what “this” could be, not understanding until Louis’ eyes close and her mouth falls open, the pleasure written all over her beautiful face as she basically rides Harry’s thigh, rubbing herself against Harry’s skin. She’s less delicate with herself than she was with Harry, her motions hard and fast right from the start. As she works herself to her peak, Harry watches in awe. She’s never even thought about this, and she’s surprised by how much she likes it, lying back as Louis uses her body to get off. Louis whines, her movements growing frantic, as Harry starts to get wet again watching Louis take what she needs. At a particularly hard thrust, Harry moans. It’s a small thing, just a quiet little noise, but Louis hears it and looks at her darkly. Harry lets herself moan again, louder this time, as she watches Louis’ tits bounce, her strong thighs flex, a drop of sweat travel the line of her throat as she throws her head back, grinding down against Harry’s leg and climaxing with a wail. She stills, her eyes closed as she appears to be catching her breath. 

Harry freezes, not wanting to break the moment that she would live a lifetime in if given the chance. It’s only another minute before Louis’ eyes blink open and she smiles down at Harry before lying down next to her on the mattress. She throws an arm over her eyes as she lies on her back, chest still heaving, and Harry turns to her side to admire her. She hopes it’s not creepy, but she could lie like this admiring her for hours and not get tired of it.

Louis peeks an eye open, smiling when she sees Harry looking down at her. “Was that all–”

“Fucking amazing,” Harry finishes for her, not wanting to hear the word “okay” ever again in regards to their sex life. Holy shit, they have a sex life. _She_ has a sex life. “That was all fucking amazing, Lou.”

“I thought so,” Louis says smugly, smoothing her hair off her now sweaty forehead. “It definitely was for me.”

“D’you wanna maybe…” Harry bites her lip, trying to think of the right words.

“You want to go again?” Louis asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise, but not judgment. “Already?”

“Is that weird?” Harry winces. “It’s just, you were so hot getting off, I got wet again…”

“No, that’s not weird,” Louis says, surging up to give her a kiss. “You liked it that much?”

Harry nods shyly. 

“That’s hot,” Louis says. She smiles sheepishly. “You make me all tongue-tied, I can’t think straight enough to come up with anything else to say.”

“Me?” Harry asks, so surprised that she actually points to herself, making Louis laugh. “I make you tongue-tied? No way, it’s the other way around.”

“Give me a minute,” Louis smirks. “And then I’ll show you what I can do with my tongue.”

*

Harry wakes up to the feeling of Louis nuzzling the back of her neck, her arms wrapped tightly around her. She smiles, not bothering to open her eyes as she burrows back into her girlfriend (it’s mutual, they discussed it last night). Sunlight falls across her face, adding to her cozy afterglow, and she’s sure that it never gets better than this, than this moment.

“I’m gonna make coffee,” Louis rasps, hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her neck before releasing her and shuffling back.

Okay, maybe it does get better than this. Harry is a coffee addict, she needs both the caffeine and the ritual to start her day. Did she tell Louis that? Or maybe Louis is just like her. Luckily she has all the time in the world to learn everything about her, starting with a lazy Thursday morning when neither of them have class.

Harry rubs her eyes, and then blinks them open slowly, adjusting to the light. Louis is standing in front of her dresser, pulling on a white t-shirt. She rifles through her drawer, plucking up something red, before pushing it closed. She grins at Harry.

“You are so cute in the morning, kitten,” she says, setting the something red on the foot of the bed. “The bathroom is through that door, and I set a clean t-shirt out. Oh, you can borrow undies too, top drawer. Come meet me in the kitchen? Liam texted, she won’t be home for a while, so it’s just us.”

That’s a lot of information to process all at once before coffee, so Harry nods just sleepily, stretching her arms over her head.

“Fucking adorable,” Louis murmurs, shaking her head. “Come on, kitten. Coffee!”

Oh, right, coffee. Okay, Harry can get up. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, stretching again. After pulling the comforter up the bed, she grabs the red t-shirt and walks over to the dresser to pick out a pair of underwear before she heads into the bathroom.

It’s funny that she slept so well last night, she usually wakes up a few times to go to the bathroom when she’s staying over at someone else’s place. Maybe she was that tired after they had sex again last night. (And again after that.) Or, more likely, it was having Louis’ arms around her as she slept.

The events of the night before play in her mind as she washes her hands and splashes water on her face, deciding to squeeze some toothpaste on her fingers to clean her teeth with instead of borrowing Louis’ toothbrush without asking. When she’s done, she pulls on the clean pair of underpants and the t-shirt that Louis had set out for her, fluffing and scrunching her hair before walking down the hallway to the kitchen. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets her before Louis has a chance to, and Harry sighs contentedly. 

“How do you take it?” Louis asks without turning around, opening a cabinet and reaching for mugs.

“Do you have milk?” Harry asks, not wanting to be a bother. She can drink it black, she’d just rather not. 

“Yeah, kitten, no problem.” Louis turns to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a carton of 2% milk. When she finally turns around, she gives Harry a long once-over, smirking.

“What?” Harry asks, walking over to the counter to pick up her mug.

“Nothing, nothing,” Louis says smugly, handing her the milk. “You just look good in red, that’s all.”

Harry looks down, just now seeing that Louis set out an Ohio State t-shirt for her. She rolls her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she laughs. “I told you, I don’t even care about college football!”

“And I told you, that doesn’t matter! We’re like Romeo and Juliet, sworn enemies from birth, star crossed lovers… but we get a happy ending.”

There’s a dirty joke on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but she really does need to drink some coffee, so she focuses on preparing her mugs instead. Once they’re both ready, Harry follows Louis out to the living room where they settle on the couch.

“You know, this reminds me,” Harry says, tugging the hem of her t-shirt, “of something my mom said when I left for school.”

“What’s that, kitten?”

“She wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t date a guy from OSU,” Harry says, rolling her eyes. “I think she was mostly kidding? But she and my dad did meet at Michigan, they were both in grad school.”

“Well, luckily for me,” Louis says, leaning in to give Harry a lingering kiss. “You seem to have found a loophole.”

“A _Lou_ puh hole,” Harry says, exaggerating her pronunciation so that Louis will understand her joke. “Get it? _Lou_ –”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, laughing begrudgingly. “Yes, I get it. And I can tell how much I like you because I actually think it was kind of funny. Now drink up, I made that especially for you.”

Harry smiles into her mug as she takes a sip of coffee, appreciating how they managed to come full circle in only a few days. Maybe Louis is right. She is brave. She went after what she wanted it, and she actually got it. After a lifetime of feeling like she didn’t belong, she’s right where she’s supposed to be. And she’s not even nervous anymore, even though she has no idea how to be a girlfriend.

She’s ready.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please share the [fic post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/625448591123693568/pink-like-the-paradise-found-by/):)


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